Brother Dearest
by LostInBakerStreet
Summary: The Holmes brothers never talk about their younger sister Violet after she became estranged at 19, 13 years later she may prove invaluable to them as they try to uncover the true origin of Moriarty's return. However Violet may just be a chess piece in one of the most dangerous games of manipulation Mycroft and Sherlock have ever seen. Spoilers! Set after HLV.
1. Chapter 1

Brother Dearest.

The Holmes brothers never talk about their younger sister Violet after she became estranged at 19, 13 years later she may prove invaluable to them as they try to uncover the true origin of Moriarty's return. However Violet may just be a chess piece in one of the most dangerous games of manipulation Mycroft and Sherlock have ever seen.

**disclaimer**: **I** **do** **not** **own** **any** **of** **the** **characters**, **or** **any** **of** **the** **canonical** **story** **lines**, **although** **I** **really** **wish** **I** **did** **own** **Benedict** **Cumberbatch ;) **

**This idea came to me after a conversation I had with my sister, also after doing a little research and finding out about works based upon Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The idea of a sister was originally written by Nancy Springer, and I thought I'd have my own play with that idea! I'm writing this in the POV of Sherlock, Mycroft and my own character Violet. Hope you enjoy! **

**Warning: major spoilers of season 3 to be included, and some adult themes and language in later chapters.**

Introduction

**Violet**:

Violet Enola Holmes, the youngest of the three siblings was by far the most rebellious, despite Sherlock's misadventures throughout childhood, puberty and well into adulthood. She like her brothers had an innate intelligence far more advanced than any recognised genius. She was also cunning and devious, and more often or not, was able to use her womanly charisma to manipulate everyone around her. Much like both of her brothers she was arrogant and quick witted, although very unlike her brothers had a softer side, often blamed on her being a female by her brothers.  
>It was no surprise that Violet used her gifts to her advantage and developed herself a glittering career as a procurer of lost things. She was a master of disguise, well traveled and would often go undercover to acquire whatever property, person or documents she was commissioned to retrieve. Of course she used her job for personal gain, often acquiring sensitive documents or priceless valuables and held them to ransom to gain power and knowledge.<p>

After a rather rocky and rebellious youth, Violet became estranged from her family and lived under the alias of Valerie Wilde, when she was not undercover. However, despite being estranged from her family, Violet followed every news story concerning her older brother Sherlock, the world famous and only consulting detective. She ached for a way back into his life as he was the only one who had came close to understanding her, he was the only one out of her entire family who had known the pain of living in Mycroft's shadow, and although it was not common for the Holmes' siblings to show any kind of brotherly or sisterly compassion, Violet was quite fond of Sherlock and she liked to believe the feeling was mutual.

Violet watched the news tirelessly and read the papers religiously, sifting through the everyday droll to find stories of her now famous brother. It had almost become an habitual obsession, a hopeless way of feeling in some way a part of Sherlock's life. She felt the pain of grief when she heard of his bloody demise, after he had thrown himself off of the roof of St. Bartholomew's hospital in London. She used her cunning, skill of disguise and her gift of manipulation to break into Scotland Yard, to acquire the case notes of her brother's death and the inquest which followed. She studied the notes meticulously, scrutinising every detail and desperately clung to the hope that she may find a sign that he could still be alive. She toyed with the possibility of contacting her parents or god forbid Mycroft, so they could come together and mourn the loss as a family unit. She attended his funeral as an onlooker and stood in the sidelines as she studied every face in the crowed, hoping not to be recognised. She found it strange but a relief that her patents no Mycroft were in attendance, only Dr John Watson, Sherlock's flat mate and accomplice in all his cases. Violet came to the conclusion that perhaps Sherlock was estranged too.

Sherlock's return from the dead, came as a shock to her, although she was mostly relieved. She again found herself following her brother's every movement in the media, once again desperate for a way back in, but always terrified of approaching him first. Then one day, as if she herself was being watched, the opportunity arose in the form of Jim Moriarty, or so she thought.

**Sherlock**:

Throughout childhood, before the star tiling realisation that emotions and sentiment were a disadvantage, and before Sherlock preferred to be referred to by his middle name rather than his given name of "William". His younger days were filled with the usual childish fun that was expected of a young growing boy, although because of his and his siblings' innate superior minds, many of the childhood games often became complex and intricate. The young Sherlock also shared some familiar sentiment towards his younger sister, Violet, although sibling rivalry was ever present throughout their upbringing. Because of the larger age gap between Mycroft the eldest sibling, who was eight years Sherlock's senior, and ten years Violet's senior, this meant naturally Sherlock and Violet were closer and the sibling rivalry stronger between the two younger siblings. Mycroft often excluded himself from the childish play, being well into his teens by the time Sherlock was 8, although hints of sibling rivalry was always present between the two brothers and in some cases between Mycroft and Violet. In Sherlock's eyes he could never really win, he was stuck between the brilliance of his shining example of a brother, and the fact that the only girl was the apple of their parents eyes.  
>When Sherlock was 9 years old, his beloved canine companion Redbeard was put down, after complications because of a nasty kidney infection. This devastated the young boy, so much so it was the first in a series of events that changed something within him. He distanced himself from his own emotions and therefore his family. Where people thought he was cold, it was just the effects of a heartbroken little boy who wanted to be rid of the pain. Unfortunately this meant distancing himself from Violet, who was grieving the loss of Redbeard herself and going through her own struggles. From that moment on Sherlock preferred to be called Sherlock rather than his given name. It was a decision made to distance himself from his childhood and was made in admiration of his brother Mycroft, who too had an unusual name. His new name Sherlock gave him the push he need to become more practical rather than emotional, much like his brother.<p>

As Sherlock approached his late teens, while Violet was approaching her mid teens, thing became incredibly rocky between the Holmes siblings. Sherlock incredibly bored by his conventional education would often disappear for days on end. Sometimes studying books of a higher educational level than those provided for him, sometimes to find his next recreational fix. It was only when Mycroft dragged Sherlock Holme by the scruff of his neck, that he even bothered returning.

Sherlock would often clash with Violet, calling her stupid frequently, he would talk down to her as if she were a child and made sure every insult was as sharp and hurtful as the last. Violet however, always gave him as good as she got and refused to back down, often calling him a "junkie" or their parents' "greatest disappointment", causing vast amounts of friction between the younger siblings. But as the years went on Violet followed in her brother's footsteps and was often the one likely to disappear for days on end in order to find her own recreational fix. Mycroft once again had the responsibility of dragging his sister back home, just as had done with Sherlock. By now Sherlock was in his very early 20's around the age of 21, in university studying advanced chemistry. While Violet was only 19 and also in university studying forensic science and criminology. Mycroft was 29 and had found himself a job within the MOD, with the promising prospects of career progression. Sherlock saw how proud his parents were of the eldest sibling and could not shake the feeling of bitterness and resentment towards Mycroft, as he himself was constantly reminded of how much of a disappointment he and Violet were, and how his parents so wished they would follow in Dear Mycroft's example. This put enormous amounts of pressure on both the younger siblings, who were both as bad as each other. Violet would often use her innate gifts to shoplift or break into places with moderate security, without stealing anything, just because she was bored. It wasn't long before her inherited addictive personality got the better of her and she was often found in crack dens or in the company of questionable acquaintances as she tried to find her next fix.

The last time Sherlock ever laid eyes upon Violet was a particularly painful memory, stored forever in his mind palace. She was on a come down from a particularly astronomical high, and because for some reason Mycroft was not available, Sherlock was sent to go find her instead. He found her in a particularly dismal crack den, paint stripping from the walls, no electricity, the faint sound of water dripping and the unmistakable stench of urine. She along with several other addicts were all spiralled out across the floor as they were all in various stages of being high. Most unable to talk or even look up from the point in which their eyes were focused on. It was not hard to spot Violet in the crowd, she was by far the best dressed and her masses of dark ringlets covered her face and cushioned her head on the hard floor. Sherlock sympathised with his younger sister, while she begged not be taken home only to be scrutinised mercilessly by their parents. But he had no choice, Sherlock had seen first hand the dangers of these sorts of places and the kind of people associated with them, and he was not going to let his sister rot in this hell hole for a moment longer. On the way home Violet shot endless rumblings of abuse at him, threatening never to forgive him for putting her into the firing line of their parents. Sherlock thought Violet never forgave him, especially after the ferocious arguments that followed between Violet and their parents, the arguments that caused Violet to leave the family home never to return again, or speak a single word to any of the Holmes family.

Sherlock once again devastated by the loss of his sister, decided I defiantly that the only way to protect himself from his own feelings, was his ability to detach himself from any emotion he may bare. He used the excuse that his emotions were holding him back at university and was often told he had an icy heart. He soon distanced himself from his family, only having minimal contact with them. Sherlock Holmes had built a fortress around his heart and his defences were only faltered when Dr John Watson came into his life. Even so Sherlock never forgot the guilt he felt the day his sister walked out, and used it as a reminder of how emotions and sentiment were a disadvantage.

**Mycroft:**

Mrcroft Holmes was never interested in family sentiment, he never cared for birthdays or christmas, he never sent cards and every card he received, he'd give a quick glance over before throwing it into the fire. Sentiment to him was a weakness, a weakness he could not afford to possess. He was not the type of person to show a great deal of emotion and this was how he liked to present himself. However, Mycroft Holmes really did care about his family, despite never showing it publicly. On several occasions Mycroft went as far as protecting his younger siblings from dangerous situations, although silently and unknown from the sidelines.

When both his younger siblings had gotten themselves into bother, either with the law or mindless drug use, Mycroft used his job and abilities to get them out of trouble. No gratitude was ever shown towards him, neither was it wanted, for if it had been, the Holmes siblings would all have to disregard their mantra and admit to being human, something none of them wanted. When Violet disappeared it broke his heart, and although he never admitted it, he felt he had as much a part to play in her estrangement as everybody else.

So Mycroft put his job and skill set to a rather personal use, for the next 13 years Violet was under the constant watch of Mycroft. He watched her every move, occasionally stepping in silently to help get her out of sticky situations. But he never sought out any real contact with her.

So what did you think? Please review :)

First fic I've written in a while, and first ever sherlock fic! I'm rather excited about this one!

Xx


	2. Chapter 2

**So here it is chapter 2! A few little surprises in store or you teehee!**

**i'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you enjoy reading just as much!**

**disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah. **

**Enjoy ;) **

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><p><strong><span>Violet<span>**:

Then one day, as if she herself was being watched, the opportunity arose, in the form of Jim Moriarty, or so she thought.

It had been a usually boring day, no clients, no messages, no plans. Violet had planned to spend the day indoors,reading some case notes she had stollen from Scotland Yard, concerning her brother's work, reading Dr Watson's blog and watching the news. She even considered making herself dinner, rather than her usual takeaway. Violet slumped on her sofa, clad in the most comfortable pyjamas she owned and flicked through the various news channels. There was one story that caught her eye, the main headline every channel was covering. The murder of Charles Augustus Magnussen, the incredibly wealthy and questionable news tycoon, that was not unfamiliar with using his extensive knowledge of most people as a form of blackmail. Violet had her own run in with the man herself, nothing too major, she could certainly handle the situation herself. But it was not the death of the news tycoon that caught her eye, but rather who pulled the trigger. It was revealed that none other than her older brother Sherlock had executed Magnussen. It was also said that Sherlock was being extradited to Eastern Europe to avoid riots in any of the British prison, no doubt Mycroft was responsible for that.

Something painful tugged on her insides, it was an unusually dull ache that echoed the feeling of dread. Something about this news story, didn't sit quite right with violet, and she was certain not everything was as black and white as the journalist were leading the general public to believe.

Then something strange happened, a low and soft female groan came from her phone. A noise that until this day, Violet had never heard before, a voice she did not recognise. The noise sounded again, Violet confused and questioning looked at her phone, she found she had two text messages from an unknown number.  
>The first message read:<br>"It's a shame about Sherlock, perhaps someone could get him out of it"  
>Violet wondered for a few moments what the message could possibly mean, who sent the message? Why did they want to help her brother? And of all people to confide in, why Violet? She read the next message<br>'Leave the tv on'  
>How strange, Violet thought to herself. She left the television on as instructed and waited. She didn't understand why or what the television could do to explain all this to her, but she waited patiently for all to be revealed.<p>

Then as if out of nowhere, the tv signal started to malfunction, the picture began to distort and the sound quality was static. As the picture began to clear a face as recognisable as her brother's appeared on the screen, repeating the words in a computer manipulated voice  
>"Did you miss me?". Jim Moriarty appeared to be back from the dead, and just at the right time too. Violet was sure it was a trick composed by Sherlock, to delay being extradited. But the more she thought about it, why would Sherlock be the one to make first contact with her, after 13 years of silence.<p>

Her phone sounded again, the same female groan as before, echoing from her phone, just as shocking and vulgar as the first time. Violet approached her phone with caution, recognising the same unknown number which had sent the previous messages. It was another text,  
>'Lets have dinner'<p>

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><p><strong><span>Sherlock<span>**:

Saying goodbye was never a skill Sherlock had managed to master, especially when it concerned the people he cared about. As a self confessed, high functioning sociopath, any kind of social situations were a weakness and difficult to pull off without offending someone. Unfortunately for Sherlock, he always managed to offend someone. Usually this was never a problem, but the more friendships he developed, the more it became a problem.

So when it came to saying goodbye to John Watson, Sherlock knew he had to keep himself distanced and almost clinical as to avoid offending his dearest friend. Luckily for Sherlock, John appeared to be in the same frame of mind, for his own reasons, to avoid breaking down and to appear stronger than he was. A few jokes about baby names and a sincere goodbye, along with a handshake was enough for both men. They had managed to express their feelings without saying them out loud, and in Sherlock's mind, that was the perfect way to say goodbye to the dearest friend he ever had.

Sherlock proceeded to board the aircraft, without looking back, knowing that his exile would almost certainly lead to his death, as Mycroft had predicted, and Mycroft was very rarely wrong. Sherlock was frightened and for the first time in years, alone. He no longer had his best friend beside him and never would again. Sherlock gazed out of the window, watching the runway, the Watsons and Mycroft get smaller, he watched as London became further and further out of his grasp, and mourned the loss of his old life. A life that was over because of a single bullet put into the head of a repugnant man. Sherlock was deep in thought as England disappeared behind the clouds, reliving the moment life as he knew it ended. The moment he killed a man to protect the one man he truly cared about and his family. Sherlock's train of thought was interrupted as a flight attendant approached him, phone in hand.  
>" Sir, it's your brother" the young man said handing Sherlock the phone.<br>"Mycroft" Sherlock bit thought the receiver with the slightest hints of disdain in his voice.  
>"Hello little brother, how is the exile going" Mycroft asked mockingly, sherlock interjected quickly<br>"I've only been gone four minutes" annoyance was clear in Sherlock's tone.  
>"Well I certainly hope you've learnt your lesson" another mocking comment fired from the older brother, Mycroft paused for a moment, before turning the conversation serious, "as it turns out, you're needed" at that moment Sherlock felt an overwhelming sense of relief before putting on a front for Mycroft's benefit.<br>"Oh for gods sake! Make up your mind" Sherlock paused " who needs me this time" he questioned gazing out the window of the plane, which was now turning around.  
>"England" Mycroft said quite matter of fact, before ending the phone call.<p>

The in flight tv then lowered itself to Sherlock's eye level, none other than Moriarty appeared on screen. The man that caused Sherlock to fake his own suicide and go into hiding for two years, the man who ended his own life on the roof of Barts right in front of Sherlock, was plain as day chanting in a distorted voice  
>"Did you miss me?" The same image and same words being broadcast on every screen in the country. 'Impossible' Sherlock thought to himself, as his mind wondered back to the events that took place on the roof all that time ago. He was sure Moriarty was dead, he saw with his own eyes the shot that killed the man. He watched in horror as Jim Moriarty took the gun, placed it in his mouth and blew his own brains out. Surely this stunt was not orchestrated by Moriarty, it was just impossible. Sherlock prepared himself for the questions, thought through every possibility and braced himself for the events that were bound to follow as the planes tyres touched the tarmac.<p>

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><p><strong><span>Mycroft<span>**:

Mycroft put down the phone, once again glancing over at the tv screen in the car. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he prepared for the arrival of his younger brother, returning from his short lived exile. Mycroft stepped out of the car and looked towards a panicked John and Mary, who were both questioning the recent broadcast themselves. It appeared that weather or not this incident could be traced back to Moriarty, the timing was crucial, and who ever had orchestrated this cunning distraction, intended on broadcasting it before Sherlock had left the country. Nevertheless it was a lucky break for the consulting detective, and would require a lot of work to get to the bottom of this. Mycroft watched silently as the private jet landed and his brother stepped off the aircraft, ushering him and the Watsons into the car.

"Any ideas?" John asked holding tightly onto his wife's hand, the inquisition and interrogations had begun, all within 2 minutes of Sherlock's return.  
>"A few" Sherlock stated plainly. Mycroft rolled his eyes and stared at his phone, hoping to receive some news.<br>"Whoever it was, it's not Moriarty, it can't be" Sheflock continued after a short silence.  
>"Can't it, lets be practical Brother dear, if you can fake your own death, I'm sure Jim Moriarty can" Mycroft interjected, not quite believing it himself.<br>"Being practical Mycroft, would be assuming it isn't Moriarty, I saw him blow his own brains out with my own eyes." Sherlock paused. "Jumping off a building is way to stage, shooting yourself in the head? Not o much." Sherlock argued, Mycroft was compelled to agree with his younger brother,  
>"If not Moriarty, who?" John asked, squeezing his wife's hand even tighter.<p>

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably on his seat for a second before looking his brother directly in the eye  
>"I don't know"<p>

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><p><strong>dundundun! Hope you enjoyed that! Please review :)<strong>

**will update soon!**

**bye for now xx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello lovelies! This chapter is going to be solely from Violet's point of view. Btw that will be happening, some chapters will have all three PoV off only two or even just one, all depends on the circumstances and events of the story line :) hope you enjoy! **

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><p>Violet:<p>

'Lets have dinner'  
>Those three words surprised her, what kind of game was being played? Violet thought long and hard about her first move, or whether she would play at all. There was only one thing that was certain, the game in which she was being pulled into was a dangerous one., but then again what game wasn't dangerous. All violet knew, was that who ever was texting her, certainly had the upper hand, and whatever move Violet made, could potentially be her last. So naturally Violet decides to respond, she picked up her phone and read back the baffling messages for a moment, before typing her one worded message<br>'Where?' Violet paused before pressing send, still unsure whether she wanted to play. She waited as her message floated off into cyberspace, anxiously awaiting for its reply. Almost immediately her phone sounded with the same offensive text tone as the previous messages  
>"Luna Nova" the message read, inviting violet to dine in a restaurant she had never heard of. Intrigued Violet accessed the search engine on her phone and typed in the name of the restaurant. Results for a quaint Italian in the heart of the Fullham Chelsea area, reasonably priced, although pricing was irrelevant as Violet suspected her dining companion would be paying the bill. Impressed, yet keen to gain back some authority in the exchange of messages, Violet quickly replied  
>'I don't like Italian' a smirk spread across Violet's lips as she sent the text. She sat quietly as she patiently awaited her opponents next move. Her phone sounded one more time.<br>'Shame, I've already made the reservation, 8pm, your name Miss Wilde." Reading her fake title came as a slight shock to Violet, she wasn't quite sure what she expected. She wondered why they had used her alias rather than her real name, as she was sure that if they took the time and effort to break into her home, to change the text tone, that they would have at least some information on her, such as her real identity and how she could be associated with the consulting detective. Violet checked the clock on her phone which read 10:38 am, and with no time to lose Violet prepared herself for battle.

Violet currently decided in a quiet rural cottage in Hampshire, a short escape from her metropolitan life. Preparations had to be made for her trip to London, of which she was sure she would be staying for the foreseeable future. A hotel room was booked, train tickets bought and luggage packed, within two hours of receiving the last message, Violet was on the train to London Waterloo. She used her journey to arrange last minute details, such as transfers from the train station to her hotel, ensuring her Oyster card was topped up and that lunch was waiting for her in her room. British countryside whizzed past at exceptional speeds and within an hour and a half she was arriving at the station.

London was buzzing with life as it always was, only this day was different, there were hints of panic in the air. No doubt because of Moriarty's unexpected presence on the tv. Violet checked the time 2:04 pm, she was making good time and had plenty enough to check into the hotel, have a bite to eat, have a bath and ready herself for her mystery dinner date in Chelsea.

Violet wanted to look her best, without showing she had made much effort. She also wanted to be prepared for every possible situation, and her choice of clothes were crucial, she had to be comfortable. After hours of sifting through her wardrobe Violet finally settled for a very smart, but comfortable ensemble. A three quarter sleeved, emerald green, satin blouse with a slight plunging neckline, which maximised her assets, just enough to tease any imagination and a high waisted, black mid length pencil skirt with a split that ran up the side of her left leg, just before the knee up-to the mid part of her thigh. She accompanied the outfit with plain black stiletto heels, which gave her 4 inches extra height, not that she needed it, as Violet already stood at a respectable 5ft 7, already towering above the average woman. Her make up was simple, but drew attention to her more favourable features, such as her cheekbones and eyes, and her hair, usually a thick, long curly mane of dark brown tresses, was pulled into a French plait with a few strands set loose, to frame her face. Jewellery was at a minimum too, just a small, oval diamond pendant sat delicately around violets neck, matched with a pair of similar diamond studs.

Violet assessed herself in the mirror, giving herself a firm nod of approval. She collected her phone, room keys and purse and placed them into a small green clutch bag, which matched her outfit. She threw on her sleek black coat and left her hotel room without another thought.

The cold London air chilled Violet, right down to her bone as she stepped out of the cab and onto the pavement. She paused for a moment to assess her surroundings, she looked the restaurant's exterior up and down, spotting the empty flower boxes, that would be filled to the brim with life had it not been winter. Brown paneling and door frames bordered the building, while a large front window and a double glass door filled the spaces in between. A red canopy sheltered the front of the building embellished with the restaurant's signage. Violet peered in before entering, it was a small bistro, quiet as expected for the time of year, but still seemed to be full of atmosphere.

Violet pushed the glass door open and was greeted immediately by a waiter.  
>"Good evening Madame, do you have a reservation?" The tall well presented young man asked. Violet looked around searching through the customers already seated, trying to find the face behind the messages. Violet cleared her throat and proceeded to say<br>"Yes, under the name Valerie Wilde" the young waiter recognised the reservation immediately, ushering forward as he picked up two menus from the stand in which he was positioned behind moments before. The interior of the restaurant was beautifully decorated, with deep browns and reds being the main theme, earthy tones, lit perfectly creating a wonderful and relaxing ambience as soft instrumental music played in the back ground.

Violet was lead to a small table towards the back of the dining room, where a young woman, mid thirties was already seated, studying a wine menu. The woman was strikingly beautiful and well dressed, with the air of sophistication sealing through her pores. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elegant up do, while her neck and décolletage were left bare. She wore a well tailored, black short sleeved dress, which had a neckline that stopped just above her cleavage. Violet was slightly mesmerised, but couldn't help but be surprised, she was expecting her dining companion to be male. In the most subtle way she could, Violet cleared her throat to get the attention the the lady sat in front of her.

The woman looked up from her menu smirking, looking Violet directly in they eye, something which made her feel very uncomfortable.  
>"Please sit Miss Wilde" the woman's voice was professional like a business woman, but welcoming like a friend. The woman gestured to the chair opposite hers, as it was being pulled out by the waiter. Violet sat down, adjusting her position and posture several times, before deciding she was comfortable enough to settle. "Wine?" The woman asked, never looking away. Violet took a quick glance at the wine list out of politeness and then dismissed it.<br>"No thank you, water will be adequate" she answered, the woman raised an eyebrow, and then proceeded to hand the waiter the menu, not once looking away from Violet.  
>"Suit yourself." She then turned to the expectant waiter "I'll have the Puiattino, Pinot Grigio please" she said with such perfect pronunciation, she then ushered the waiter away. The woman then reverted back to the eye contact "you probably have some questions, so lets get them out of the way, shall we?" She said quite sternly. Violet immediately thought of several questions she could ask, figuring out what the was the most appropriate question to ask first.<br>"Who are you?" Violet chose to ask first, hoping to get a straight answer, but sensing it would not be the case.  
>"I could ask you the same question" there was a short silence, panic began to fill Violet's head as she prepared herself for the second prt of the sentence. The feeling of being uncomfortable returned, this woman, never once took her eyes off Violet, she felt as if the woman was staring directly into her past. "Miss Holmes" Violet flushed with panic and anxiety, tried to remain and appear as calm as she possibly could.<br>"Thirteen years." She paused composing herself. " Thirteen years, since I've been addressed as such, and here you are" another pause, Violet leant forward prompting the woman to mimic her actions " a stranger, I met all of two minutes ago, calling me by the name, the name I've been hiding hiding from, my entire adult life" there was slight hints of malice in her tone.  
>"Well you're clearly not that good at hide and seek" the woman retorted. At that comment Violet stood up and went to walk away. "I need your help, Miss Holmes." Violet stopped dead in her tracks, not turning to face the woman. " I need to be put back into contact with your brother, I owe him something." The woman's tone was softer than it had been, she sounded desperate. Returning to her seat, Violet continued the interrogation.<br>"Who are you?" Violet asked, narrowing her eyes trying to read the woman, or detect a lie to no avail.  
>"An old friend" the woman plainly answered.<br>"Who. Are. You?" Violet asked again, putting emphasis on each word that came from her mouth, with a menacing bite.  
>" Irene Adler" the woman answered in a hushed tone so no one around could hear, Violet rolled her eyes.<br>"Am I supposed to believe you? Or should I assume that is a fake name?" The woman fixed her gaze back onto Violet, staring mercilessly.  
>"It's about ad fake as Violet Holmes" the woman raised an eyebrow, daring Violet to retort.<br>"Suppose I do help you? How do you expect me to put you back into contact with my brother, when I myself have been out of contact for over a decade" Violet questioned "and why me? Why not anyone else? Why does it have to be me?" Violet attacked the woman with question after question hoping to get some solid and straight answers.  
>"You've been dying to contact him for years, well now you have an excuse" the woman responded.<p>

As the night went on Irene Adler explained in great detail of how she owed Sherlock her life, and she wished to repay him. That simply contacting him herself was foolish, as many people believed her dead, or wished her dead. She told Violet that she wished to employ her to go undercover as herself and try to attract Sherlock's attention, by placing herself in the right place at the right time. Making him believe that she had reverted to old drug habits and was reaching out for help. Irene wanted to remain completely anonymous until the time was right to reveal herself. Violet however, had to bare all and revert back to being 'Violet Holmes', an identity she had spent thirteen years trying to avoid.

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><p><strong>what did you think? Please review, any kind of feedback is welcome! <strong>

**next chapter is gonna be Sherlock's and Violet's PoV **

xx


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